


If I Had You

by silentdescant, Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Costumes, Ex Sex, M/M, PWP, Porn Video, Recreational Drug Use, Video Camera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam’s focus narrows to Brad’s bright, wide eyes and the mischievous twist of his lips, and he suddenly knows exactly what would be fun. “We should fuck,” he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Had You

**Author's Note:**

> We were both feeling a little scatterbrained but still inspired to write, so instead of working on our in-progress fics, we decided to bang out some PWP. :)

It’s nothing like his other video shoots, no strenuous choreography or big set changes, and Adam doesn’t feel drained at the end like he has in the past. Instead, he just feels...excited, like he really has just been partying in the woods with half his costumed club friends from the old days. Everywhere he looks, he sees familiar faces grinning back at him, people hugging him and thanking him for the invite and making vague plans for getting together when they can. It’s a little bit overwhelming, but in a good way, all that positive energy thrumming in his skin. He closes his eyes and hopes it’ll come through on camera, because if it does...he grins to himself. He loves this video already.

When he opens his eyes again, Brad’s standing right there in front of him with a little half-smile on his face, still shirtless and wearing a pair of black angel wings, and Adam’s heart jumps a little like it always does -- still does -- when he sees Brad. He tilts his head a little in question and Brad raises his eyebrows and nods, grinning, and Adam takes his hand to lead him away from the crowd. Brad chatters happily all the way back to Adam’s house, about the video and Adam’s song and life in general, and Adam just basks in it, in Brad’s voice, in his presence. They have a connection; they always have, and Adam misses it.

Brad nudges Adam’s side and gives him a _look_ , one Adam remembers all too well. “I can practically hear you thinking. Stop it,” he says.

Adam smiles down at him and shakes his head. “I’m not as good at that as I used to be. Too much to think about.”

“Oh, I can fix that,” Brad says with a smirk. He sets his bag down on a chair and hangs his wings over the back, rummaging through his things with both hands. Adam moves into the room and settles onto the sofa, running a hand through his sticky, messy hair. He needs a shower and probably an early night -- he thinks there’s something he has to do in the morning. Maybe. It’s probably in his phone. But...Brad’s right there, thin and bright and turning around to grin at him victoriously, a plastic baggie in one hand, and Adam just can’t bring himself to care about tomorrow.

Before long, they’re sprawled together on the couch, legs tangled, with a haze of sweet smoke drifting around them. Adam laughs as he passes the joint back to Brad. “Remember,” he says through his giggles, “remember when we went out to that club totally wasted, and...”

“Baby, you’re gonna have to be more specific,” Brad says.

“I don’t even fucking know,” Adam replies. There are too many memories, now, and he can’t pick just one to talk about. “It was just so fucking great, you know?”

“What was?”

“Everything.”

Brad twists around and gets his legs under him, so he’s perched on his knees on the edge of the couch. “Hey, you know what would be fun?”

Adam’s focus narrows to Brad’s bright, wide eyes and the mischievous twist of his lips, and he suddenly knows exactly what would be fun. “We should fuck,” he says.

Brad’s mouth drops open, but he’s still grinning. “Totally not what I was going to say, but sure. Why not.”

“I want to fuck you,” Adam tells him, pushing himself upright as well. This doesn’t seem like the kind of conversation he should have while slouched down and sucked into his puffy new couch.

Brad grins. “Okay. Should we, uh... move this to the bedroom?” He hops off the couch and extends his hand to Adam, then yanks him to his feet. Adam stumbles too far and falls forward but Brad’s there to catch him, and Brad’s face is tilted up towards his, and Adam just leans down and slots their mouths together, pushing his tongue between Brad’s lips without preamble. Brad’s ready for him. He’s always ready.

“God, I’ve missed this so much,” Adam murmurs. Everything is a little blurry and a lot awesome, and they filmed his best video yet today, and Brad’s here and kissing him...and the idea just sort of appears, fully-formed, in the front of his mind, spilling off his lips without a second thought. “You know what we should do?”

Brad’s eyes are unfocused now, and his lips are slack and wet. Adam smiles. He did that. He made Brad look like that. “What?”

“I wanna film it,” Adam whispers, dragging a hand through the short hair at the back of Brad’s skull. “With you, I want... You’re the best I’ve ever had and I want to keep it forever.”

Brad lets his head fall back, following the movement of Adam’s fingers and closing his eyes, his mouth soft and open, and Adam has to put an arm around him and pull him close, has to feel that body pressed into his own for the first time in a long time. Too long. Brad’s lips quirk, but his eyes stay closed, and Adam can feel how hard he is already. “Best ever? Really? I bet you say that to all your exes.”

Adam tightens his fingers in Brad’s hair and leans down to murmur in his ear. “You know it’s the truth. No one ever begged for my cock the way you did. No one loved it like you -- and they all fucking loved it.” Brad’s breath catches, but Adam doesn’t stop, just grips him tighter and whispers, “Never found anyone as good as me, did you? You miss my cock, baby? Come on, tell me. Tell me how much you want it.”

Brad opens his eyes and looks up at Adam through his lashes, and Adam has to kiss him again before he can speak, deep and lingering, until he forgets to breathe and is forced to break away. He remembers Brad as being strangely reticent about telling Adam exactly what he wants, quieter than Adam would have expected considering how vocal he’s always been outside the bedroom, and he’s about to start speaking again, working on coaxing the words out of him...when Brad grins and cuts him off.

“Save it for the video, baby.” He squirms out of Adam’s grasp and takes off down the hall to the bedroom, and by the time Adam gets there, Brad’s already pulling Adam’s camcorder out of a dresser drawer. He keeps biting his lips and breaking into breathy laughter, and _fuck_ , Adam’s missed this. They always have so much _fun_ together.

Adam lets Brad take charge of the camera and starts peeling off his clothes, kicking everything out of view once it hits the floor. Brad glances back over his shoulder, and his gaze lingers a long time on Adam’s cock, so Adam strokes himself a few times, bringing himself to full hardness. Brad licks his lips and turns back to the camera.

“I can’t believe you haven’t upgraded this shit,” he mutters, but Adam can tell his heart’s not really in it. “You’re famous now, you can afford a better video camera.”

Something in the words cuts through the haze in Adam’s brain, and he falls to sit on the bed, realizing that he’s forgotten something important. “Fuck. I’m famous now. This is a really horribly bad idea. Brad! How could you suggest something like this?”

Brad cracks up and crosses the room to crawl into Adam’s lap. “Your idea, baby. Too late to turn back now.”

Adam wants to protest, he really does, but Brad’s in his _lap_ , and fuck, it’s been so long, but Adam’s hands remember exactly what to do. One arm goes around Brad’s waist to keep him steady and the other hand gropes his ass, _god_ , his tiny, rounded ass that fits perfectly in the palm of Adam’s hand. Adam hears himself moan.

Brad wiggles in his arms, nearly falling off Adam’s lap, and pulls his shirt over his head. Adam slides his hand up immediately, spreading his fingers wide and flattening his palm against the knobs of Brad’s spine, right up between his shoulder blades. Brad leans back and moves both hands between their bodies to unbutton his jeans, and Adam looks down, needing to see Brad’s cock as it’s uncovered.

And it turns out that Brad’s not wearing underwear.

“God, baby,” he breathes. “Never change.”

Brad shoves the sides of his jeans apart and down as far as he can without actually moving from Adam’s lap. He squeezes his thighs around Adam’s hips, and all that denim caught between them is actually kind of uncomfortable, but Brad’s ass rocking down into Adam’s lap more than makes up for it.

Adam turns abruptly and slams Brad down on the bed, catching himself with his elbows braced on the mattress, and somehow Brad still has the mental capacity to kick his jeans off while Adam’s kissing him. The rough, frayed denim slides against Adam’s leg and then slithers to the floor, and then all that’s left is Brad’s pale, bare skin, already slippery with sweat wherever he’s touching Adam. Brad spreads his legs and wraps them around Adam’s waist, and Adam’s hands bury themselves in Brad’s hair, chests and cocks sliding together, smooth and slick and fucking _perfect_. He wants to kiss Brad again, but he’s gasping for breath, thrusting down against Brad’s body and he rests his forehead against Brad’s instead, eyes closed, dizzy with sensation.

Brad’s head suddenly comes up, nearly smashing into Adam’s nose. “Shit,” he says. “Wait.”

Adam groans. “What?”

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

Brad fights his way free of Adam’s clutches, leaving Adam sprawled on his back as he rolls off the bed and disappears back down the hallway.

“Brad?” Adam calls after him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Bradley Bell, I am going to fucking kill you, get back here.”

“Gimme one second, baby, I’ll be back,” Brad shouts back, and Adam groans and lets his head fall back hard onto the pillow. This was the worst decision ever. Fucking Brad and whatever his fucking idea is and the fucking video camera staring at him from the dresser...

Adam glances at the dark lens and flashes right back to earlier in the day, staring into a much bigger and more expensive camera with a crew behind it, a director behind it ordering him to be sexier, sexier, but not too sexy. Then he grins and lets his hands start to slowly slide down over the bare skin of his hips, taking his cock in one hand and giving it one deliberate stroke. He lets his whole body roll up into the next one, slow and sinuous while his other hand reaches down to tease over his balls, and god, it would be so easy to close his eyes and let this be the end of it, just a little faster, a little tighter. Instead, he forces himself to keep his eyes open, keep staring at the camera. He imagines sending the recording home with Brad, imagines him alone in his bedroom watching it, seeing what he’s missed, and oh fuck, he can’t, _can’t_ , has to stop, close his eyes and take a tight hold at the base of his cock and force himself to breathe.

“Brad, if you don’t get back here right now I’m gonna...”

“Whatcha gonna do, baby?”

Brad’s voice comes from the direction of the door, and Adam turns his head on the pillow and opens his eyes.

Brad’s there, in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light, and he’s wearing the wings he brought to the video set, and he’s smoking the joint they’d abandoned earlier. Adam’s mouth waters at the sight of him, at the curve of his waist, the points of his hipbones, the contrast of black wings against pale skin, and he reaches out automatically. The camera needs to see this shit. The camera... _fuck_.

“Come here,” he says quickly, “get on the bed, get in the light, come on.”

Brad saunters over, smoke wafting around him and the ties holding the wings to his shoulders pulling at his skin. “What?” he asks, all put-on innocence and smug confidence. “Wanna show me off, Adam? Want everyone to see what you got?”

“Nobody else gets this,” Adam replies. He waves his hand, urging Brad closer, and Brad finally knee-walks onto the bed, somehow still graceful even as the mattress shifts under him. He bends at the waist and places the joint between Adam’s lips, and Adam takes the drag with Brad’s fingers against his skin. When Adam finishes, Brad takes it away and leans over Adam to set it on the nightstand, his entire body stretched taut and right within Adam’s grasp.

Adam’s hands go to Brad’s hips, pulling him down, and Brad straddles Adam’s waist easily and leans down to kiss the lingering taste of pot out of Adam’s mouth, slow, licking kisses that leave Adam wanting to take control, tighten his grip and manhandle Brad onto his back. Instead, he lets his hands skim up Brad’s long, lean sides, until there are soft feathers under his touch instead of warm skin, and maybe that shouldn’t be hot but oh fuck, it really is, and he moves a hand to grab at the center of the harness where it’s resting between Brad’s shoulder blades. He grips tight and pulls, forcing Brad to sit up, right over his cock, hot and teasing and perfect.

Brad moves his hips in a slow roll, a smirk on his lips, and Adam groans. “Just...just let me look at you, baby, just for a second, let me see you.”

At that, Brad’s smirk turns into a self-indulgent grin, and even through the desire clouding his brain, Adam has to laugh to himself a little. Brad has never turned down a chance to pose in his life. Brad schools his face quickly into something angular and intense and _beautiful_ , arching his back and straightening his shoulders, showing off the wings, the way they frame his body, the way the black straps cut through the lines of his shoulders. His chin juts out into the air, archly defiant, baring the fragile tendons of his neck to Adam’s gaze, and that’s it, that’s all the looking Adam can do. He needs to _fuck_

“Brad, baby, wanna fuck you, right now, get fucking ready,” Adam breathes. The words blur into each other, too high, too desperate, but Brad seems to understand enough. He leans over to the nightstand again and pulls open the top drawer, smiling when he finds condoms stashed in the same place Adam’s always kept them. He takes one and tosses it on to Adam’s chest with a wink, grabbing the bottle of lube from the nightstand for himself and pumping some onto his fingers before reaching back and opening himself up. The back of Brad’s hand brushes against Adam’s cock, hot and slick with the lube that drips down, and Adam rocks his hips up, needing any scrap of friction he can get while his hands fumble with the condom, finally working it open and sliding it down over his cock. He swipes a hand over Brad’s ass, through the lube slick between his cheeks, and strokes himself quickly, just barely enough to cover. Brad can take it. Brad fucking _wants_ it.

Brad pulls his hand back and lays both palms flat against Adam’s chest, bearing down a little as he leans forward. Adam thinks for a second how this will look on the video: Brad’s wings hanging off his shoulders, and his ass thrust out towards the lens.

“God,” he groans. “Need to fuck you now.”

“What’re you waiting for?” Brad asks with a curl of his lip.

Adam holds his cock at the base, his other hand clenched tight around Brad’s hip, and Brad takes the initiative, pushing himself back and into position, sitting up straight and then arching backwards slightly, pulling his stomach taut and thrusting his cock out towards Adam as he slides down and takes Adam in with a loud groan. He gets about halfway down and stops, and Adam lets go of his cock then to hold onto Brad instead.

“Oh, fuck, Adam,” Brad moans, tossing his head back as his jaw drops open. He rises up on his knees a little, lets Adam’s cock slip out of him just enough, and then grinds back down, this time all the way until their bodies are flush together, and Brad’s cry gets lost beneath Adam’s.

Adam grips Brad’s hips tight enough to bruise and pulls him _down_ , pressing up into his body even though there’s nowhere to go, just to see the look on his face and hear the break in his voice. Brad feels fucking amazing around him, tiny and hot and tight, _stretched_ , and Adam wants to watch him but he can’t keep his eyes open. Then he remembers the camera, holy shit, the _camera_ , and he realizes he gets to see this again, later, maybe with Brad at his side and a hand on his cock, and his hips are moving without him even realizing they’ve started. His hands urge Brad into movement, and god, it’s so _easy_ , like their bodies just remember how this works, exactly where Brad’s knees should press into Adam’s sides and how quickly Adam’s hips should move and how Brad should angle himself to take Adam as deep as he possibly can, and it’s like no time has passed at all, like they’re still young and stupid and so fucking in love.

Brad throws his head back and lets Adam do what he wants, just lets himself ride, stroking his hands up and down his own chest, pinching his nipples, and his voice is ragged when he speaks. “Fuck, Adam, your fucking cock, feels so good, oh my god...”

A surge of pride goes through Adam and he adjusts his grip on Brad and thrusts harder. “That’s right, baby, what did I tell you? Such a fucking slut for my cock, aren’t you, desperate for it...” Brad just moans, and Adam drives up into him again and _stays_ , holds himself deep inside Brad and doesn’t let him move no matter how he squirms. “Tell me, baby, tell me how much you love it.”

“Fuck!” Brad shouts. “Fuck, I love it. Adam, please, fuckin’ do me, come on, fuck me.”

Adam pushes himself up onto one elbow and wraps his free hand around the back of Brad’s neck, reeling him in and tipping him off balance so he falls against Adam’s chest. “Tell me you fuckin’ missed me,” he growls.

He watches Brad’s confidence melt away, until all that’s left is raw, desperate honesty. “Adam,” he gasps. “I did, I missed you, I missed your fucking cock in me, come on, please, just give it to me, please.”

Adam’s fingers ease and he lets his hand slide down to tangle in the strap of the wings around Brad’s shoulder. He grabs it and pulls it tight, ignoring Brad’s soft sound of discomfort. “Fuck,” he breathes, then lets himself fall back to the mattress. He’s about to come, he’s so fucking close, and Brad’s staring at him like Adam knows the meaning of life, and Adam can’t help but thrust up into that tight, clutching heat.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he says. “Brad. _Fuck_.”

“Yeah, baby, come on, come in me, make me fuckin’ feel it,” Brad says, a rough edge to his voice now. It means he’s close, means he’s desperate, and Adam’s hand drifts down to Brad’s cock.

Then he catches a glimpse of the red spot of light, the camera still turned on them. “Shit,” he whispers. “Not yet.” No good porn video has ever just showed one position. Adam grabs Brad’s hips again and lifts him up, off, away, and fuck, that’s the very last thing he wants right now, but it’s _necessary_. If they’re going to record this, it’s gonna be _good_.

Brad hits the bed with a grunt, his limbs tangled as he collapses into a confused heap. “What?”

“Get on your knees,” Adam commands roughly, already shifting around and trying to figure out the best position for the camera. Brad’s slow to obey, so Adam twists his hand in the straps of the wings, maneuvers him around so that the camera gets their profile. He wants to see this on the video, wants to see Brad take his cock, wants to see him beg for it. He pushes Brad down onto his elbows and doesn’t let go of the straps; Brad’s back is elongated this way, stretched into an easy, beautiful curve, and Adam loves him like this, loves towering over him and forcing him to stay down and still.

He strokes his cock a few times, slow and careful, pulling himself back from that inevitable edge, and then his hand goes to Brad’s ass, his thumb stroking slowly down over Brad’s hole and pressing _in_. Brad takes him so easily, slick and fucked-open, and Adam groans and pulls his hand away, fitting their hips together and taking his cock in his hand again, fucking back into Brad with one hard thrust, giving it to him deep and reveling in the strangled cry he gives when Adam bottoms out inside him.

Adam slaps his open hand down on the side of Brad’s ass and leaves it there, squeezing, kneading, feeling the warmth of the red flush that colors Brad’s pale skin. He jerks Brad back against him, setting him into a counterpoint rhythm, then slides his hand down the slope of Brad’s back until he reaches the strap holding the black-feathered wings to Brad’s body. It’s the easiest thing in the world to wrap his fingers around it and lean back and let his hips do all the work, bouncing Brad up and down on his cock fast and hard and deep. Brad’s saying something, but Adam can’t be bothered to listen, doesn’t have enough awareness left for anything but the strain of his muscles and Brad’s tight wet heat around him and the sting of his palm as he lays another smack on Brad’s ass, massaging at it after like he can rub in the mark his hand leaves, like he can brand it into Brad’s skin.

He stares down the line of his body at where his cock disappears into Brad’s body on every stroke, watching Brad push back against him, arching his back and angling his ass up for Adam. His voice is going high and tight, and Adam realizes that Brad’s jerking himself off, resting all his weight on one arm and stroking himself fast and hard with the other hand.

“Fuck yeah, baby, come on, come on my cock,” he says, wanting to feel it, wanting to fuck Brad all the way through it to the other side. At the words, every muscle in Brad’s body goes tight, convulsing in quick rhythms Adam can see dancing under his skin as he comes with a moan. Adam doesn’t even slow down, so close now, everything going more intense as Brad tightens around him, and he leans back further, balancing himself with his grip on Brad’s wings and letting his rhythm go wild, racing toward the end. Adam closes his eyes, forces everything out of his mind except the feel of Brad around him, the sound of his muffled moans filling Adam’s ears, the heat of Brad’s flushed skin beneath his hands.

“Do it, Adam,” he hears. “Do it, fucking come in me, fuckin’ use me, baby come on.”

Adam’s eyes fly open and lock onto Brad’s, barely visible over his shoulder through the fluttering black feathers. Adam rolls his body forward, spooning against Brad and lying flat against his back, straining to kiss him as he comes. The feathers tickle his chest and throat, and Brad’s ass is so tight and hot around him, but suddenly all Adam can focus on is the sloppy, wet press of Brad’s lips against his own. He comes so hard he’s _shaking_ , and Brad is licking at his lips and whispering his name in this beautiful broken voice, and he can’t even breathe, can’t think, just slides his arms underneath Brad’s body and holds him tight for as long as he can.

Too soon, Brad starts to move slightly under him, and Adam knows he has to get up or Brad’s gonna give him hell for not letting him breathe. He’s probably already in trouble for crushing Brad’s wings. Oops.

Adam reaches down to hold the condom and slides out carefully, listening to Brad’s soft moan at the movement and stroking a gentle hand over his ass as he kneels up and steps off the bed. He remembers this so well, how at first they hadn’t understood this part, how they had both thought sex ended with orgasms. How they had worked it out together, over weeks, months, learning how to make it better, how to make it theirs. Adam knows that he won’t be able to relax fully until he has a long drink of water, something to soothe his throat, dry with so much heavy breathing. He knows Brad likes the washcloth as hot as Adam can get it, and that he likes Adam to be as thorough as possible, more because he loves all the rough touches on oversensitive skin than for any desire to be rid of the lube, or, back in the early days, Adam’s come. And he knows that they’ll both be sleeping in this bed tonight, curled up in each other, as close as they can get.

He doesn’t know what will happen after that. Tomorrow. He doesn’t ask.

They’re already settled into a comfortable cuddle, wings discarded on the floor and Brad drifting quickly toward sleep, when Adam remembers the blinking light of the camera and realizes that he’s forgotten to shut it off. He’s tempted to get out of bed and do it now, but Brad’s already breathing slow and even in his arms, and if he’s not asleep yet, he’s almost there. Adam doesn’t want to disturb him. They can edit this out of the video.

Or not. Adam thinks about their routine, how easily they fell back into it. How easily they fell into bed together. He spares a quick glance at the camera, then turns his head away, burying his nose in Brad’s hair. He doesn’t want to lose a moment of this, and he resists sleep as long as he can, just enjoying the feel of Brad in his arms, and the sound of Brad's breathing in his ear.

 _fin_.


End file.
